


14 Days of Dragon Age Lover's Prompts

by JCHB322



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Art, Bees, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Growing Old Together, Kissing, Long Life Together, Long-Distance Communication, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Notes, Love Potion/Spell, Love marks, M/F relationship, M/M, Mild Language, Modern AU, Multi, Mutual Longing, Picnic lunch, Post-Trespasser, Return to Ostagar, Screenshots, Self-Love/Masturbation, Short Stories, Touching, Watching Sunset Together, coping with change, f/f relationship, last chapter nsfw, m/m relationship, magical healing, spending the day together, stories based on prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCHB322/pseuds/JCHB322
Summary: Sooo... Much like Fictober (which I PROMISE I will finish!) A series of prompts was posted with a challenge to write a short story from February 1st through February 14th. So... here we go!This will feature not only my main pair (Alistair and Kylara) but other OCs and other character relationships!I hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Alistair/Female Amell, Alistair/Female Brosca, Alistair/Female Cousland, Alistair/Female Surana, Alistair/Female Warden, Cullen Rutherford/Alistair Theirin, Cullen Rutherford/Sebastian Vael, Dorian Pavus/Male Treveylan, Female Cadash/Iron Bull, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Leliana/Female Mahariel, Male Hawke/Anders, Zevran Arainai/Female Tabris
Comments: 33
Kudos: 28





	1. Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> LLF Comment Builder
> 
> This author replies to comments.

12th of Cloudreach, 9:72 Dragon

“Grampy, grampy!” The front door banged shut. A little girl, no more than five years of age ran up to her grandfather, who was sitting by the fire. It was almost the middle of Cloudreach, but the days were still chilly in Highever.

“What is it, Lily?” The elderly man leaned over and picked up his granddaughter. He set her down on his afghan covered lap.

Tears in her eyes, Lily sniffled, “I was tryin’ to pick a pretty flower for you from gramma’s flowers, but it bit me on my thumb!”

“Did it now?” He looked at the proffered thumb. There was a small drop of blood on it. “Oh my. Which naughty flower bit you, sweet pea?”

“One of gramma’s roses.”

He took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and carefully wrapped it around the injured thumb of his granddaughter. “Well now, roses have thorns. Why didn’t you pick a pretty daisy or tulip for your old grampy?”

“Cause roses are gramma’s favorite… an’ you’re my favorite grampy.”

A wistful smile spread across the face of the elderly man. “Yes. Yes, they are.” He kissed his granddaughter’s forehead. “Do you know why?”

“No. Why?” she asked. “Is it cause they smell pretty?”

“They do smell very nice, but that isn’t the whole reason.” He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, his granddaughter was waiting patiently. “The reason your gramma loves roses… is because I gave her one when I realized I was falling in love with her.”

“ _You_ gave gramma a rose? Like I was gonna give you one? Did it bite you on your thumb too?”

“No, sweetums, I had gloves on when I gave her the rose, so it didn’t ‘bite’ me. I had found it just after we had helped the citizens of Lothering and I gave it to her a few days later.”

“During the Blight? That was so long ago!”

Alistair closed his eyes again and murmured, “Yes. Looking back it seems like another person’s life and not my own. Your gramma and I were both very young back then. When I saw that single, lonely rose, I remember wondering how could something so beautiful exist in a place that had had so much despair and ugliness. I had thought that perhaps I should have left it alone, but the darkspawn were coming and their taint would have just destroyed it.”

“So you kept it an’ then gave it to gramma?”

“Yes. She was amazing, your gramma. She had lost everything that had mattered to her when Howe killed her family. Not only that, but she also had amazing strength and courage through her Joining and that horrible battle at Ostagar. By giving her that rose, I was telling her what a rare and wonderful thing she was to find amidst all that… darkness.”

“Wow,” Lily’s eyes were wide with wonder. “An’ then after the Blight, you and gramma were king and queen!”

“Yes. Until your father, our son, took over the throne. Of course, there is a lot more to our story -- like how your gramma also searched long and hard for the cure to our Warden Calling so we could live and enjoy our children and grandchildren… but that can be a story for another time. For now, your gramma and I are happily retired and living a quiet life here in Highever, near her old home.”

“Where grumpy Uncle Fergus still lives.”

“Yes, your great-uncle Fergus isn’t teryn anymore, so maybe that’s why he’s grumpy… Or it could be your great-aunt’s haggis…”

Lily stuck out her tongue. “Yuck.”

“We’re just lucky your gramma Amelia is such a great cook.”

Another voice suddenly spoke, “I had to learn pretty quickly though, or your grampy’s cooking would have killed us all back then.”

“Hey!” Alistair groused as his wife walked into the room. “My Ferelden lamb stew wasn’t _that_ bad… was it?”

“Wee little ears don’t need to hear of the suffering your ‘lamb stew’ caused us all back then!”

“Hmph.”

Amelia Cousland-Theirin leaned over and kissed her granddaughter on her head, then gently brushed her lips against her husband’s. “I still love you, despite your severe lack of cooking skills.” She then knelt down by the chair. “Lily, your mum is here to pick you up. She needs to get back to Denerim before night.”

Charlotte Theirin came into the room, carrying Lily’s younger brother, Maric. “Come now, my love. Your father is eagerly awaiting our return. We can come and visit your grandma and grandpa again real soon.”

“Okay.” Lily slowly got down from her grandfather’s lap. “Thank you for telling me that story, Grampy Alistair.” She handed him back his handkerchief. “I love you.”

Alistair grinned. “Gramma Amelia too?”

“Yes!” She hugged her grandmother tightly. “Love you both!” She took her mother’s hand. “See you soon!”

As they headed out, Charlotte asked her daughter, “So what story did your grandpa tell you today?”

“A story about a special rose that he had found in Lothering…”

As their voices faded off, Amelia’s eyes misted up with tears. She leaned in and kissed her husband tenderly. “I love you.”

He kissed her back. “I know, my rose… I know.”


	2. Hand Holding

Mida Brosca looked down at the muddy road. It was still raining and she pulled her cloak tighter around her petite frame. _Rain._ The first time liquid water had come from the vast sky above, she nearly lost it, wanting to run back to Orzammar and to the safety of rocks above her head. If only she _had_ that as an option… but no. She was stuck traveling with a former Templar-turned-Grey Warden, a witch from the swamps, a preachy Chantry-loving human, and a gigantic Qunari – who’d hardly uttered six words since they left Lothering…

 _A_ soft _whuff_ from behind reminded her of their one other companion, the huge Mabari that had somehow decided that she was his owner. She’d named him “Killer” – after seeing what he’d done to a group of darkspawn that had been chasing him near Lothering – but shortly after, the novelty had worn off. He howled and barked all night, which kept her from being able to get a decent night’s sleep. Well, that… and the darkspawn nightmares didn’t help either.

Alistair had tried to cheer her up a few nights ago by giving her a rose he’d found in Lothering, but Mida had just been confused by his gesture of kindness. She’d mumbled, “Thanks” and then tossed it into her tent. At first, he seemed slightly hurt by her indifference, but then he got over it quickly. She would catch him staring at her from time to time, giving her soft smiles. _Why does he keep smiling at me like that?_ _Why would anyone want to be nice to me?_ _I mean, he does know I am casteless, right? I am the scum of dwarven society! Lowest of the low…_

Her brooding was interrupted when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Alistair.

“How are you doing, Mida?”

“Fine… I guess,” she mumbled.

“I know that this is still all strange and new to you. A great big world above ground; this constant rain we’ve been having…”

“What makes you think I care about the rain anymore, Alistair? It’s been raining for days. I’m used to it now.”

“Well, it won’t rain forever,” he smiled at her again. “Summer is coming soon and it will be much warmer and drier.”

“Can’t wait…”

Her sarcasm was lost on her fellow Warden. “That’s great! When we get to Redcliffe, there are summer festivals! I’d love to show you around! It’ll be fun!”

Mida rolled her eyes.

Alistair continued on, unawares. “For now though, I think we’ll break for camp. There’s a group of trees up ahead. We can set our tents up over there.”

“What difference will that make?”

“The ground is elevated over there,” Alistair explained.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we won’t have mud leaking into our tents. I figured that would be more comfortable for you.”

Mida was taken aback. _Why does he care if I am comfortable?_ _Not one single being has cared about_ _ **my**_ _comfort… Not even that drunken bitch who claim_ _ed_ _to be my mother. Rica was the lucky one. Lucky she was born pretty enough to be a noble hunter… while I did Beraht’s dirty work…_ _until I killed him, that is._

Not for the first time since she left home, Mida wondered is her old friend Leske was okay.

_Kinda wish Duncan had been able to conscript him too…_ _then at the very least, I’d have someone here who really gets_ _**me** _ _._

Once again, Alistair interrupted her pensive mood. “Mida? Are you all right? You’ve been quieter than usual.”

“Why do you always bother the girl, Alistair?!” Morrigan snapped. “Don’t you think ‘tis possible she wants to be left alone? Your constant yammering is even giving me a headache!”

Mida suddenly surprised herself by answering back, “No, Morrigan. It’s okay. I don’t mind Alistair’s small talk.”

“Really?” Alistair smiled at her. “Thanks, Mida.”

“Great, now he really won’t shut up,” Morrigan grumbled.

Ignoring her, Alistair took a few quick steps to catch up to Mida. He reached down and grasped her hand into his.

Mida immediately yanked her hand away from him and hissed angrily, “I said I didn’t mind the talking, Alistair… I never said you could hold my hand!” She put what little energy she had left into her exhausted legs and ran ahead until she reached the trees where they were going to set up their camp.

Once everyone else reached her, the camp was set up quickly and quietly.

Dinner was also a subdued affair, with only Leliana making small talk. After finishing her overcooked piece of hare, Mida retreated to her tent, though she noticed Alistair staring at her again.

In her tent, she peeled off her leather armor, which fortunately wasn’t too wet. Her hooded cloak had kept most of the rain off. Sitting in nothing but her smalls and a sleeping shirt, she took out her daggers and throwing knives to examine them. They were still as sharp as razors, so there was no need to hone them. Her poison-making supplies were full, but she had no flasks to mix up anything new.

_Great… now what? I suppose I could_ _**try** _ _to sleep…_

A scratching noise on her tent flap startled her.

“Go away, Killer. Go sleep by the fire.”

“Um… it isn’t your Mabari… unless he’s learned to talk… and- ”

“What do you want, Alistair? I’m trying to sleep.”

“I, uh… just wanted to talk with you, Mida. For a little bit?”

“Fine. Say what you’re gonna say and then let me sleep.”

“Can I… come in? Please? This is a little awkward.”

Mida sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “Make it quick.”

He poked his head inside, then got onto his hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way in. He bumped into the poles holding the tent up twice, but quickly fixed them so as to not collapse the structure. When he finally was able to get into a sitting position, his head was brushing the top of the canvas. “Sorry… I am a bit large here.”

“It’s fine. Just hurry up and say what you need to say.”

“Mida, why wouldn’t you let me hold your hand earlier today? I was only trying to comfort you.”

She stared at the ground. “Why did you think I needed comfort?”

“I know this whole journey has been hard on the both of us… we are the last of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. We’re living our lives on the run and trying to accomplish the impossible. I know you are having darkspawn nightmares almost every night… and I also know your life before all this wasn’t an easy one…”

Mida glared at him. “You know nothing about my life! You don’t know what it’s like to be born casteless in Orzammar!”

“No, but I’d like to understand… and help… if I can.” He took her small hands into his large ones.

Mida shook her head and pulled her hands away again. “Y-you don’t understand, Alistair. These hands of mine have done horrible things. I’ve stolen money. I’ve threatened other dwarves… I’ve even killed them! Whatever Beraht told me to do… I did. No matter how despicable and dishonest it was… All because I worked for the Carta.”

Alistair spoke quietly. “But that life is behind you now. You are a Grey Warden. You’re fighting for a noble cause!”

“Noble…” Mida scoffed. “There is _nothing_ noble about me.”

“Duncan saw something in you.”

“But… I lied and cheated my way through that Proving! All because the guy Beraht backed was drunk and couldn’t fight! I disgraced it with my mere presence! For dishonoring him, Beraht threw me in a cell… I escaped… but then I killed him! Then the guards were going to have me executed! The _only_ way Duncan saved me was by conscripting me!”

“Duncan could have said nothing and let you be executed… but that is not how he is! He conscripted you because he knew there was more to you than your past. _He_ saw something of value in you. It was the same for me too.”

Mida was stunned at Alistair’s response. “Duncan conscripted _you_? Why? You were a Templar in training! That’s about as noble as you can get!

“Yes, but during the tournament they held to determine who would get chosen, my performance was middling at best. There were so many others who bested me… so I wasn’t selected. Yet as the winners were being paraded around in front of Duncan, he brushed past them, pointed at me and said, ‘I want him’.”

Eyes wide, Mida then asked, “Then what?”

“The Grand Cleric didn’t want to let me go, so in the end, Duncan used the Right of Conscription! Boy, was she ever livid! I thought she was going to have us both arrested… but in the end, she had no choice. I actually heard her mutter under her breath as we left, ‘Good riddance’!”

“Not a very pious response from one who is the head of your Chantry,” Mida smirked.

“No, it wasn’t.” Alistair suppressed a laugh. “Anyways, as we were traveling away, I even told Duncan, ‘Why me? I didn’t even win the tournament.’ He then responded, ‘I didn’t ask for the tournament. Nor did I offer the recruitment as its prize. I came there seeking a warrior of character and I believe I have found him’.”

“We’re you upset leaving your Chantry life behind?”

“Oh, absolutely not!” Now Alistair did laugh… and Mida could help herself. She laughed too. Alistair smiled at her and continued, “I was miserable there! When I got to leave with Duncan, I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I’ll forever be grateful to him.” Alistair’s eyes shone with unshed tears at that last sentence. He took a steadying breath, then said, “The point to all of this is that no matter what you…” He took her hands into his once more. “…or your hands did in the past, it is just that. In the past. You are a Grey Warden now, like me, and together we will fight for what we believe to be right.”

Mida continued to let him hold her hands. “And we still get to kill darkspawn, right?”

“Yes…” Alistair grinned. “We will definitely do that!”


	3. Bow and Arrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you don't mind cheesy endings... 😋

On a bluff a few meters away from camp, Ashanne Mahariel sat on the stump of a tree. She was supposed to be cleaning and honing her daggers, but instead, her sharp grey eyes kept straying to where Leliana was practicing with her longbow.

 _Such poise… such grace._ Ashanne sighed with longing.

It also didn’t help that Leliana was wearing a tight pair of leather pants that showed her firm, round buttocks… and a thin shirt that barely covered her high, petite breasts.

_For a cloistered sister of their Chantry, she sure doesn’t dress modestly… but then, trying to shoot her longbow with that ridiculous robe on would never work. And I certainly don’t mind how she is dressed… Creators, but she is gorgeous!_

A sudden voice startled her.

“Need any help there?”

Ashanne squeaked in surprise and dropped the dagger she had been trying to clean. It missed her toes… just barely.

Zevran chuckled. “It is very strange to come across a Dalish unawares. Seems something is distracting you from your work.” Zevran looked up and saw Leliana through the trees. “Ah, I see. Yes, our Leliana is quite lovely, no?”

Ashanne blushed.

“Have you made your affections known to her?”

She was now so red in the face, her vallislin nearly vanished.

Zevran knelt down by the discomfited Dalish. “Have you, at the very least, spoken to her?”

Ashanne swallowed nervously. “Not really.”

“Whyever not?”

Regaining some composure, she said, “Well, for one, she’s… human. And I am an elf… a Dalish. She believes in the Maker. I worship the Creators. I wouldn’t know what to say to start a conversation with her! I think we are just too different.”

Zevran frowned. “I thought you Dalish were fearless, indomitable… But you can’t even muster up the courage to speak to a mere _human_?”

Storm grey eyes glittered dangerously. “Fen'Harel ma halam…” <Dread Wolf ends you…>

“Ah! Now that’s better! Some spirit at last!” Zevran grinned and it was hard for Ashanne to stay mad at him.

_He does have a valid point._

Twirling her ash blonde hair in her fingers, a nervous gesture for her, she asked, “So… what should I say to her?”

“You wish to break the ice with her? Well, you were admiring her technique with the longbow, yes?”

Ashanne nodded. “I never mastered the bow with my clan. I always preferred up close and personal combat with my daggers.”

“Why not ask for a lesson then?” Zevran asked with a shrug.

“You think it will be that easy?”

Zevran cocked an eyebrow at her. “You won’t know unless you try, now will you?”

She sighed. “All right, I’ll try… But if this fails and I get rebuffed, I’m coming back and kicking your scrawny ass.”

“Scrawny?!” Zev gave her a mock horrified look. “I’ll have you know that my ass is considered quite supple and sexy back in Antiva!”

“Yes, but we aren’t in Antiva now, are we?”

“Ouch, dear lady!” Zev placed his hand over his heart and staggered back a few steps.

Ashanne sheathed her daggers and stuffed her sharpening stone back in her pack. Giving Zevran a saucy grin, she then took herself – and her new resolve – over to where Leliana was still practicing.

“Mythal, lasa ma ghilan…” she mumbled under her breath. <Mythal, grant/give me guidance.> She stopped about a meter away from Leliana and waited until she let loose her arrow. It flew off and buried itself deep into a straw target some fifty meters away. Then before Leli could nock another arrow, Ashanne cleared her throat. Leliana turned and smiled.

“Ashanne, what a pleasant surprise! How are you?”

She tried to respond in kind but found herself lost in Leliana’s forest-green eyes. _As deeply green as the trees of the Brecilian forest._ Tearing her gaze away from those remarkable eyes, she then stared at Leli’s pale freckled skin. _I could trace a myriad of constellations on those adorable freckles!_ Then her sight moved down Leli’s graceful neck and her heart nearly jumped into her throat at the sight of Leliana’s breasts just barely visible through her thin shirt. _Oh, to be able to lick the salty tang of her sweat from those cute little breasts! What I would give to-_

“Ashanne?” Leli’s soft, musical voice jerked Ashanne back to reality. She yanked her gaze from Leliana’s breasts and turned scarlet with embarrassment.

“I… I, uh…”

Leliana smiled gently. “You know, you’re really cute when you blush.”

Flummoxed, Ashanne started twirling her hair in her fingers. “I… I am?”

Leliana nodded. “I also find it adorable that you twist your hair with your fingers like that when you are self-conscious.”

“Y-you do?”

Leliana took a few steps toward Ashanne. “Mm-hmm. You are a little awkward, but it is very endearing.” She tucked a loose strand of Ashanne’s hair behind her graceful, pointed ear. Ashanne shivered at the touch. “I’ve been wondering for the longest of times when you might pluck up your courage and come talk to me…”

Ashanne swallowed. “And… what if I wanted… to do more than talk? How… how would that make you feel?”

Leliana gently brushed her lips against Ashanne’s ear and whispered, “I’d feel thankful that you feel the way I have for weeks now.”

“Creators…” Ashanne murmured. “Wh-why didn’t you say something?”

Leli pulled back a little and spoke softly. “When we first met, you were still grieving over the loss of your friend, Tamlen. That, and you and Alistair had both been through the void with all that happened at Ostagar. I… just wanted to give you time. Time to get over your sorrows and realize your new feelings towards me.” Leli paused, then asked, “That was all right, yes?”

“Yes.”

“How do you feel?” Leli gave a soft smile. “You were so nervous earlier…”

“I… I feel relieved. Relieved and happy. Ma vhenan…”

Leliana leaned back in and kissed Ashanne tenderly. “I am glad, da’mi.” <little blade.>

Ashanne kissed her back, soft and sweet, then pulled away and giggled.

“What makes you laugh, ma chère?”

“I came here to actually ask you to teach me how you use your bow… and instead, you slew me with an arrow of love.”


	4. Napping Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to get back into my art... slowly.

Here is a _very_ rough sketch I made of Garrett Hawke napping under a tree with Anders (and Ser Pounce II)

Hope you like it!


	5. Love Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Some Spoilers Ahead **
> 
> This short will be a tie-in to my upcoming DAA fic (trying to finish Kylara's Origins first...) The dates will *not* match up to the game as I had to change some things in the first story... 
> 
> This will also ever so slightly affect Anders arrival in Kirkwall for the DA2 story... but it will all work out, you'll see!
> 
> 😉

23rd Harvestmere, 9:31 Dragon – Vigil’s Keep

“Messages for you, Warden-Commander,” the young female guard handed me a stack of letters. “Busy day for you, by the looks of it.”

I flipped through and counted them. Fourteen letters. “Seems so, Flora. Thank you.”

“No problem, ma’am.” She saluted me and then walked back to her post. I saw our newest Warden, Sigrun, chatting with Wade and waved at her. She smiled and waved back.

“That’s a lotta readin’ you gotta admit,” Oghren mumbled as he took a swig from his flask. “I thought bein’ in charge, you’d have others to do that stuff for ya.”

“Sometimes, Oghren. There are people under me, such as the seneschal, but as Warden-Commander… and the current Arlessa of Amaranthine, there is a lot I am expected to handle on my own.”

“Is there anything I can do to help, m’lady?” Nathaniel asked. “If there are any land disputes…”

“Kiss-ass…” Anders muttered.

“Well, at least I know _how_ to manage a keep. My father was- ”

“Your father was a greedy, brown-nosing, murdering bastard who tried to kill my best fri- ”

“And I told you, _mage_ , I was in the Free Marches when all this was going on! I had no idea!”

I pinched my fingers to my forehead. “Anders! Nathaniel! Please let’s keep things civil. We are here to work together! We _all_ have our own strengths and weaknesses. Even though we know Rendon did many horrible things, Nathaniel has proven to be nothing like his father. As the son of an arl, he would know how to handle problems with any noble families, whereas I am still learning!” I turned to my old friend. “And Anders, your healing skills are without equal. I can barely mend a scrape on my knee.”

“An’ what about me, Warden? Hmm?” Oghren grinned.

“Ah, Oghren… Well, you um… You… can drink us all under the table!”

“Ha! Damn straight I can!” He shook his flask and realized it was empty. “In fact, I’m gonna do that right now!” He ambled off into the keep.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “ _Why_ do you put up with him?”

I sighed. “Honestly? I am just used to his behavior now. It was the same way when I traveled all around Ferelden with him over a year ago. Strangely enough, it seems that having him drunk helps him fight better. I mean, you were both there when he took on over twenty genlocks and hurlocks in Kal’Hirol… and he didn’t get a single scratch on him!”

“Could’ve just been dumb luck,” Anders laughed.

Nathaniel shook his head. “Luck like that will run out… eventually.”

“We’ll see, I suppose,” I sighed. “Anyways, Nathaniel, there are two land disputes here in these letters. See what you can make of them and report back to me later.” I handed him the two letters and he ran off. “Anders? Could you take stock with our potions? Craft any if we are low?”

“Sure thing, Ky. I can do that.” He gave me a hug. “Sorry about earlier too. Not sure why Nathaniel and I can’t seem to- ”

“No one said you and he had to be best friends, Anders… But we do need to all work together. We are all Grey Wardens,” I replied.

“What about the rest of the letters?” he asked, curious, “Anything important?”

I flipped through them. Nothing jumped out at me until I got to the second to last letter. My heart jumped. It was a letter from Alistair! Anders saw it as well and chuckled.

“A letter from your husband, hmm? Well, I say _that_ should take up your first bit of business.” He gave me a gentle swat on my butt with his staff. “Go on. Go see what your love has to say. If Nathaniel comes looking for you about those land disputes, I’ll tell him you are… indisposed.”

“Anders, you mad, wonderful man! Thanks!” I gave him a quick hug. “I’ll get Ser Pounce-a-Lot some fish from Amaranthine next time we’re in town!” I giggled, then ran into Vigil’s Keep and to my room.

Once there, I quickly stripped off my armor, shield, and sword. I locked the door, and then wearing nothing more than my smalls and breast band, I flopped onto my bed and eagerly tore open the letter.

_My dearest heart,_

_I know_ _it has_ _just over three weeks_ _since I saw you last at Vigil’s Keep,_ _but they have been the longest three weeks of my life so far. I miss having you by my side at court. You always help the tedium of the days go by faster. I hate my long, lonely nights alone. The bed is cold and dreary without you in it… and your scent is fading from the sheets._ _I crave_ _the sight of you, the sound of you, your smell,_ _your touch._ _Maker, I need you back here so much!_

_There are times I wish_ _that I had just stayed a Warden, so I could be there_ _with you_ _… helping you in Amaranthine,_ _but Ferelden needs a ruler… and that ruler is me. Besides, with any luck, you will quickly find out where these new mysterious ‘talking’ darkspawn are coming from, eliminate them, and come home to me!_

_Hmm, maybe I can convince Eamon that I need to take a trip up to Amaranthine for… something. Then I can stop by the keep and see you again. Oh, who am I kidding, I’d do a lot more than just look at you! For starters, I’d kiss you long and hard… until we are both dizzy with lust. I’d fondle and lick those beautiful, perfect breasts of yours until you cry out my name. Then I would_ _take you with my mouth; use my tongue and fingers to-_

_Maker’s Balls, I am so hard right now! Do you know how difficult it is to write this with my right hand… while my left is fondling my cock?_

_Mmm, now I am picturing you reading this… I’_ _ll_ _bet you are touching yourself right now… aren’t you, you naughty minx?_

I was, in fact, doing just what he’d described. How could I not? I missed him more than the sun missed the sky at night. I wished that our crystal necklaces worked, but we were too far apart for their magic to connect us. The distance between us… to not have and hold the man I loved more than life itself? Spending my nights alone? I knew how he felt.

“Oh, Ali… my love,” I moaned out. “I need you too…” I continued slowly stroking myself and picked up his letter again.

_I could go on and on, writing about all the things I need to do to you, but it is almost like torture… The truth is, I’d rather be there_ _**doing** _ _those things to you, instead of writing them. So with any luck (and some really clever timing on my part), as you finish this letter…_

That was it. His letter just ended right there. Confused, I sat up and suddenly heard from near the window…

“I’m here, right now.”

My head whipped to my left. Alistair stood there, with a huge grin on his face. I leaped out of my bed and hurled myself into his arms. He caught me and held me tight.

Tears of joy ran down my face, which he eagerly kissed away.

“How?” I asked. “How did you get here so quickly?”

He kissed my nose, then replied, “I had the servant send the letter after I left. To be honest, I am surprised it worked out so perfectly.” He then began to take off his traveling armor. “Truth is, Eamon is hot on my trail, so let me get down to business and do all the things I said in that letter… and more… before he gets here to drag my ass back to Denerim!”


	6. Fighting Together

15th Solace, 9:44 Dragon

It was a sultry evening in Minrathous. Dorian was lounging in a milk bath, while a nearby servant fanned his face with a lace-trimmed fan. Outside, the evening lights around the city sparkled like gems. Yet the beauty of the city – and the supposed peace – was nothing more than a sham. Though the Magisterium were attempting to keep it quiet, there were more and more Qunari raids every day. So far, they were not attacking major settlements… but it was only a question of time.

Dorian abruptly stood up from his bath, startling the servant who had been fanning his face. He waved for the servant with the rinsing jar to come up.

Once he’d been rinsed, dried, and dressed in a silk gown, he left the bathing chamber and retreated into his room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he opened a nearby drawer and took out his sending crystal. Identical to one he gave to his love, Antonio Trevelyan, before he returned to Tevinter, they used them to ‘talk’ with each other. It kept the loneliness of their being apart at bay… somewhat.

Then Solas happened. No, not Solas… Not anymore. Fen’Harel. He took the anchor from Antonio – which, granted, had been killing him – but it also took his left arm from the elbow down.

Despite Dorian’s initial reservations, his love had wanted to try and redeem Solas… to help him see that destroying the world of man, just to save the elves, was wrong. Antonio also decided to take what he thought would be a safer path to helping Solas and he disbanded the Inquisition.

Dorian and Antonio had continued to stay in touch after the disbandment, but their communications slowly got more and more infrequent… until one day, they just stopped. Dorian had suspicions as to why, but without confirmation, he was only guessing.

He held the crystal tightly in his fist, spoke the incantation, then tried once again to reach out to his beloved.

“Amatus, please. It has been over a month. Why won’t you tell me what is going on? I need to know you are all right.”

There was nothing but silence again. Dorian sighed and was about to give up and put the amulet away once again… until he heard a tired-sounding sigh. Then the voice he’d been craving to hear finally replied.

“Dorian?”

“Antonio! Are you all right? I haven’t heard from you in over a month! I’ve been going mad with concern! Why have you shut me out?” There was a long silence again and had it not been for the soft breathing sounds he could still make out… “Antonio,” Dorian murmured. “Talk to me… please.”

“I’m fine, Dor. I’ve just been… thinking… a lot these last few weeks.”

“Thinking about what, exactly?”

“Just… stuff. Nothing that needs to concern you.”

Dorian frowned. Antonio wasn’t telling the truth. “Now _that_ I don’t believe for one moment, amatus. You don’t sound _fine_. I can hear it in your voice.”

Dorian could hear his love holding back a sob. Then in a quivering voice, Antonio answered. “I… I am not the man you once knew, Dorian. I can’t be the warrior who once fought by your side. Solas took that from me…”

Dorian hissed in a breath. He knew his amatus wasn’t just referring to the anchor.

Antonio had been left-handed.

“So you have been thinking I can’t love you – or that I _shouldn’t_ love you _–_ because of your missing hand, amatus? Because you can no longer hold a sword?”

“How can I be a warrior if I can’t wield my sword? I can’t protect those that I love! I let Solas go… I disbanded the Inquisition… and to what end? We have no idea what he is planning or how to even stop him! I… I’ve failed everyone!”

Dorian had heard enough. _Time for some tough love, then…_ “Amatus, now you listen to me. Right now, you are failing no one but yourself! We can still fight together! You did the right thing in showing Solas mercy at the end. We have a chance now to show him he is wrong… that there will be a way for him to save his people without destroying our world. We will find it together! You still have your incredible, brilliant mind, for starters!”

“B-but… he took my hand, Dorian!”

“The anchor was killing you! I’d rather have you without your sword hand than lose you altogether!”

Antonio sighed.

“Have you even looked at other possibilities for this?” Dorian asked him. “Have you thought to find Cullen? Perhaps he could teach you how to fight with your other hand? Or that mad, little, genius dwarf, Dagna? Perhaps she could come up with a solution? Your hand is only one part of who you are…”

“Dorian…”

“The Inquisition may be disbanded, but you still have friends to reach out to. You still have _me_ , amatus. You will _always_ have me! I will fight for you, just as you fought for me! Remember, Alexius? My father? Who helped me through those troubled times? You! Now I can do no less for you!”

“Really? You would do that… for me?”

“You are the man I love, Antonio Maximus Trevelyan! If I have to prove it one thousand times more times…”

There was silence on the other end, then, “Thank you, Dorian. Thank you for making me strong again, in my moment of doubt and weakness. You are right. We will finish what we started and we will be together, fight together, once more. I should never have let it come to this, but you have given me the strength I need to pull through. I love you.”

“And I, you, my amatus. Always.”


	7. Love Birds

At first, Leliana thought it was cute when Neya Lavellan asked if she could use one of her ravens to send a message. Not thinking further on it, she handed the shy elf inquisitor a tiny roll of parchment, quill, and ink.

Once the note had been penned and the ink dry, Neya handed the rolled-up paper to Leliana, who then inserted it into a tiny leather tube around one of her ravens’ necks.

“Who is this going to, now?” she asked Neva, “Someone from your clan? A family member, perhaps?”

Neya blushed and shook her head.

“Who then?” Leli pressed. “I need to know, so I can tell the raven where to go.”

She blushed further, then mumbled, “Cullen.”

Leliana blinked in confusion. “Cullen? As in our Cullen, here at Skyhold?”

Neya nodded, cheeks still pink.

Leliana put a hand on the petite elf’s arm. “Why use one of my ravens? You could just go to his office and speak to him, you know.”

“Oh, no! I-I can’t do th-that,” she stammered. “I’m… not ready yet.”

Leli smiled gently. She could humor the girl. “All right. I’ll send it to him. You can go now.”

Neya thanked Leliana and then all but ran from the rookery.

A few days later, however, she was approached again. This time by Cullen, no less.

“Cullen. Good to see you.” Leliana smiled at the Commander of the Inquisition. “What can I do for you?”

“I, uh… would like the use of one of your ravens.”

Of course, Commander.” She handed him the writing materials. A few moments later, he returned with the tiny rolled parchment and handed it to Leliana silently. “Who is this going to?”

Cullen coughed gently into his fist and quietly muttered, “Neya.”

“Did I hear that right? Neya?”

Cullen nodded.

“If I may ask… Why not just talk to her directly? She is the Inquisitor.”

“Ah…” Cullen blushed. “It isn’t related to anything she needs to do…for us. This is… personal.”

Perplexed, Leliana asked, “Personal, sir?”

“Yes, personal.” Cullen scowled.

Leliana sighed. “Very well.” She put the message into the tube and sent the raven off.

This continued to happen off and on for the next several weeks. In the beginning, it was just Cullen and Neya, then the next thing she knew, people from all over Skyhold were using her ravens for delivering cute notes and love letters to others around the fortress.

Her old friend, Alistair, had also come up to use her ravens, but at least his letters weren’t local. He was trying to track down his wife, who had been on a secret mission to find a cure for the taint in their blood – and it was becoming more urgent. Corypheus was now making _all_ Wardens hear the Calling… long before their time. Leliana sympathized with him, but even he was starting to get on her nerves.

Leliana had tried speaking to Cullen once at the war table, about all the people taking advantage of her ravens. Cullen had nodded and agreed that it should stop, but the very next day he was back at her rookery… along with ten others!

Leliana finally lost it.

“This has gone far enough! My ravens are not everyone’s personal love birds for you to send cutesy little poems and notes to your significant others! They are supposed to be for the Inquisition’s spy network, so we can find out what Corypheus is up to! You all have abused this and it will stop now! If you want to continue sending notes to your lovers, start using those two appendages at the end of your body! Your own legs! Now shoo! The lot of you… out of my rookery!”

Red-faced and ashamed, everyone left… except for Alistair. Leli softened.

“I’m sorry, but you as well, Alistair. We have sent many of my ravens out to look for your wife – including my best, Baron Plucky. I can’t afford to send any more out on this wild chase across Thedas.

Alistair gave a smile. “No, I wasn’t wishing to send any more letters… I was just hoping there might have been a response by now.”

“Oh, Alistair… I’m afraid no- ” Leli started to say, but just then, with a loud caw and a fluttering of black wings, a raven landed on her shoulder. It was Baron Plucky! Leli quickly opened the leather tube around his neck and withdrew a small rolled-up parchment. She handed it over to Alistair.

He read the note quickly. Once, then twice – as if he needed to reconfirm what he had just read. His face lit up like a beacon.

“It is from my love! She has found a potential cure! We’ll need Fiona and a few other mages to work on it… but it’s a start!” He grabbed Leli into a tight hug, causing Baron Plucky to squawk in indignation and fly up to the rafters.

“This is fantastic news, Alistair,” Leliana couldn’t help but mirror his grin.

“But the best news of all is this… She’s coming home!”


	8. Patching Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my amazing friend, Tini 💗 (Whose mods and Alistair videos I can't live without!!)
> 
> Gorgeous 🎨 art by Ambellina Leander!!

12 th of Wintersmarch, 9:31 Dragon

If there was one thing Tini hated most about the darkspawn, it was the ogres. Broodmothers were certainly horrific in their own right – with their slimy, disgusting tentacles and their void awful stench – but they were few and found only in the darkest parts of the Deep Roads. But ogres? Those brutes were huge, grotesquely muscular, and with their extremely fast regenerative ability, they were very, very hard to kill.

It had been a long, exhausting (both physical and mental) day for all of them… and it wasn’t finished yet.

Just over an hour ago, they had entered the hole that the darkspawn had used to dig their way into the Tower of Ishal back during the Battle for Ostagar. That hole had led into part of the Deep Roads, then emptied out into the Korcari Wilds side of the battlefield.

Tini thought that the field looked far too clean from the battle she remembered. The death toll that night had easily been in the thousands… and now they were standing on pristine, clean snow. Oh, there were a few frozen bodies here and there, but nothing like what she’d seen that one awful night. She didn’t even want to think about where the corpses had all gone.

They were all down on the field because that was where a sneaky, little genlock necromancer had led them. It had been playing cat-and-mouse games with their party ever since they had found King Cailan’s corpse – strung up on a crude altar – on the bridge leading to the tower.

“Where is that disgusting little bastard,” Alistair muttered. “He’s the last bloody one we need to kill. Then we can take care of Cailan.”

“Perhaps he’s gone now?” Wynne leaned on her staff for a moment, her breath puffing out little clouds in the cold air. “Maybe he fled back to the others, underground?”

Morrigan shook her head. “’Tis highly unlikely. It was leading us. I am certain it brought us down here for a reason.”

Just then Leliana spotted it… about fifty meters away. “There! There it is!” She quickly loosed an arrow at it, but the genlock launched a firebolt and incinerated the arrow halfway across the field. “Damn it!” Leli reached for another arrow, but Zevran stopped her.

“You only have two arrows left,” he cautioned. “I’d save them for now, yes?”

Leliana frowned but nodded. She strapped her longbow across her body and pulled out her daggers.

“I’ll try and get closer.” Zev vanished into stealth. Tini could just make out his outline and she saw him cautiously making his way across the field.

Just then, she could feel magic being worked. She lightly touched Alistair’s arm. “Be on guard. That necromancer is up to something.”

Thick clouds of purple smoke surrounded the necromancer and he waved his arms around in a strange pattern. Once the spell had been cast, the necromancer ran further off.

In horror, Alistair, Tini, and the rest of the group saw several frozen corpses rise from the snow. The worst one, however, was a huge ogre corpse that had two blades still impaled in its meaty chest. Black, tainted blood began oozing out of the wounds from the swords. It roared loudly and the sound reverberated all around the valley.

“Everyone, fan out!” Alistair shouted. “Let’s kill the smaller corpses quickly! Then we can focus on the ogre!”

Even with three warriors, three mages, and two rogues, the number of frozen corpses stretched them pretty thin. Every time they thought they were making progress, more corpses would rise from their frozen graves. Both Tini and Wynne, as the healers, were having to keep their eyes sharp to heal injuries as soon as they happened.

Fortunately, the ogre was just staggering around in circles near the back of the battlefield. It had yet to notice the fighting going on. At least, it was oblivious until Oghren shouted out, “HA! That’s another kill for me!”

The ogre’s head jerked up at the sound and it fixed its beady eyes on the group of fighters. With a mighty roar, it began to charge… straight in Tini’s direction.

Alistair’s protective instinct kicked into high gear. He used his shield to knock his current target to the ground and quickly sliced it’s head off with his sword. He then tossed his sword and shield aside and put all his strength into getting to her as fast as he could. He shouted as he ran towards his love.

“TINI!”

He got to her split seconds before the ogre. He leaped through the air, grabbing her around her waist and then twisting himself around so that he took the fall. Breathing hard, he anxiously gazed into her violet eyes.

“Are you all right?”

Tini nodded but then watched in horror as the ogre grabbed Alistair in its huge fist.

“ALI!”

The ogre, apparently angry that its first target had been taken from it, brought a struggling Alistair up to its face. It roared and began squeezing. Alistair cried out in pain.

Tini quickly got up and grabbed her staff. She cast a protective field around her love to prevent the ogre from doing any more damage. “Everyone!” she shouted. “Help me! The ogre has Alistair!”

Morrigan quickly began casting hexes on it to weaken it. Leliana grabbed her bow and her last two arrows. “Maker,” she prayed, “guide my hand!” She shot them both in quick succession, and each arrow buried itself into the ogre’s eyes.

Blinded and in massive pain, the ogre roared and dropped Alistair from his grip. Blessedly, Tini’s shield held as Alistair’s unconscious form fell to the snowy ground.

Sten charged the beast, now that it no longer had its hostage, while Oghren’s warhammer smashed into its knees from behind. Zevran leaped onto the creature’s back thrusting his poisoned daggers deep into its neck. Then he swung around to the front and grabbed the sword and dagger that were already in the monster’s chest. He slammed both deeper into its body and then twisted the blades. Zev dropped out of the way as Sten rammed his own sword up, through the neck of the ogre and up into its brain. It finally fell over, dead.

They all anxiously looked around for the necromancer, but Zevran, still panting from exertion, swiftly said, “It is dead too. Took care of it.”

Everyone then ran up to where Tini was removing Alistair’s armor to ascertain his injuries.

“Quickly, someone set up our tent and fetch me the bandages!” she said with urgency.

Ten minutes later, Wynne and Tini were carefully moving Alistair into the tent. Wood was cut and a fire built. Their small cast iron pot was filled with clean snow to melt. More snow kept being added until there was a full pot of water boiling.

Tini knelt down and put her ear close to Alistair’s mouth. His breathing was labored. _ Broken ribs, most likely, _ she thought. She began casting her strongest magic to heal the internal injuries.

“What else do you need?” Wynne asked her _. _

“Elfroot poultices,” she replied, her concentration never waning. “We also need a strong tea that will keep him deeply asleep. He must move as little as possible while the injuries heal.”

“I’ll get the tea made,” Morrigan said.

The tent flap closed as the rest of the group set to their tasks.

Tini continued casting her healing spell, concentrating on where she sensed the most pain. As she worked, she spoke quietly to her love.

“Ali, you were wonderful, so brave and heroic to save me from that monster… So now I will do no less for you. I will  _ not _ lose you, not from this. You will have an uphill battle to fight, but you will recover. I will make  _ sure _ of it.”

She began humming an old elvish tune she remembered, not only to help keep herself strong but also because she knew Alistair loved hearing it as well.

Slowly, bones knit, muscle tears repaired, wounds closed, and bruises faded. She kept the spell going until she had nearly exhausted her mana. Then she gently laid her head on his chest.

“Just going to rest… for a little while,” she murmured as her eyes closed.

It was full-on dark when Alistair opened his eyes. He was stiff from lying so still for so long, and he ached all over. He saw his beloved Tini hunched over him, her head on his chest and her eyes closed. Her platinum blonde hair spread all around, almost covering him like a silken blanket. He carefully tested his arm and found he could move it with only a small bit of pain, so he reached up and brushed an errant strand of hair away from her nose.

Apparently, this tickled her just enough that her eyes opened. When she saw that her love was awake, she sat up and gave him a soft smile… yet her eyes still looked anxious. “How do you feel? Does anything still hurt?” she asked.

“Nothing that I can tell, for the moment,” Alistair replied, his voice quiet. “But as I am still lying down…” He tried to rise up.

Tini shook her head and bade him lay down again. “I wouldn’t. That ogre did a lot of damage to you. I am sure I have repaired all the internal injuries, but to be safe, you should probably rest some more.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “I was so afraid for a while that I would lose you…”

He smiled gently. “No, you should know I’m too stubborn to die. Not to mention I have the most amazing healer to ever live looking after me.” He brought his hand up to stroke her cheek. “I would never be so cruel as to leave you. You are everything to me, Tini. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She bent over and gently kissed his lips. He kissed her back, putting all his passion and love into it, but after a moment, she reluctantly pulled away. “Ah, ah. You need more rest to heal fully. I promise I’ll make it up to you when you are all better.”

“Mmm… Then I have much to look forward to.”

Tini then noticed someone had slid a tray into their tent. It had a lyrium potion for her and a cup of the sedative tea for Alistair, enchanted to stay warm. She handed him the cup. “Drink this, it will help you to sleep tonight.” She held his head up and let him sip the tea slowly. Once finished, she then drank the potion to help her mana recovery.

“Will you stay with me while I sleep?” Alistair mumbled, the sedative already taking effect.

“Of course. I will always be here for you.” She took off the armored top part of her Grey Warden uniform and then lay next to him, pulling up the blanket with her. She snuggled as close to him as she could.

“Promise?” It almost came out sounding like ‘ _ Pwomiss’ _ which made Tini smile.

“Always, Ali my love. Always.”


	9. Bee (Mine)

Shaevra Tabris loved the outdoors. Growing up as a city elf in the alienage of Denerim had allowed her precious few opportunities to see nature in all its glory. As a young girl, she had often climbed the vhenadahl with her cousins Shianni and Soris, much to the amusement of the alienage’s hahren, Valendrian.

Up there, she’d seen birds, squirrels, insects, even the occasional cat that climbed up there to avoid the dogs. But it was nothing like actually being in the actual forest!

The whole group had decided to enjoy a late springtime day. Their mission was nearly finished; their allies had all been recruited and they were going to be leaving the Dalish in the morning to head back to Redcliffe. Morrigan and Wynne were both taking the opportunity to gather herbs from the Brecilian while Leliana was practicing with her bow. Sten was talking with the Dalish weapon master, Varathorn. He’d expressed a mild curiosity at how swords made from wood could be as strong as steel. Oghren claimed he was going to look for new brew ingredients, but was probably just getting himself drunk again.

Shaevra had seen Alistair wander off somewhere. She knew he had a lot on his mind lately… with the upcoming Landsmeet and the possibility of him becoming the new King. _I wouldn’t know what to say to him… probably best to let him sort it out for himself,_ she thought.

She herself had planned to speak with several of the Dalish she had become close to, but then her love, Zevran, surprised her with the idea for a picnic lunch for just the two of them.

So the two of them walked deep into the forest together. Shaevra giggled with delight at each new thing she spotted in the forest – shy foxes, owls sleeping in the trees, moss on the trunks of trees, and even spotted mushrooms. She even flipped over a rotting log and watched with fascination as grubs, worms, and insects frantically burrowed back into the loamy soil.

“Enjoying yourself, mi amado?” Zevran flashed a smile at her.

“It’s perfect. I know you don’t really care for the outdoors, but thank you for bringing me, Zev.”

“Your happiness is my happiness,palomita.”

“Are there forests in Antiva?”

“Some. We have clans of Dalish in the south and in the northwest of our country. I ran off to join them once…”

“I remember,” Shaevra smiled. “It was because you had your mother’s Dalish gloves…”

“Yes. Her Dalish nature had always been something of a fascination for me. But sadly once I was there with the real clan… let’s just say that the reality did not live up at all to the fantasies I had constructed as a boy staring at those gloves. I left after about a week and headed back to Antiva City and to the only life I knew.”

“With the Crows…”

“Mm-hmm.” Zevran caught Shaevra’s hand and then said, “But had that not been, I would never have met you, mi dulce flor.”

“Only because you couldn’t kill us,” Shaevra teased. 

“And it worked out for the best, no?”

“I think  _I_ got the better end of the deal though.”

Zevran grinned and buffed his nails. “Yes, I know I am rather phenomenal at lovemaking.”

Shaevra burst out laughing. “Oh, you!”

Zevran brought his lips to her ear and purred out, “Would you want me any other way, gatita traviesa?”

“Never… ” Shaevra sighed.

Zevran kissed her but kept it short and sweet. “Come now, let us eat. Perhaps later tonight we can explore… other options, yes?”

“I’ll hold you to that promise,  lover.”

They spread out a blanket that Cammen and Gheyna had loaned them and nibbled on  some fresh spring vegetables and berries  that the Dalish had gathered. After a few moments though, Zevran made a face. 

“Pah. Not my perfect food choice for a romantic picnic. Rabbit food…”

“We could go hunt something, maybe?”

“I’d rather not today. I would like to just enjoy the time with you. We’ll be traveling again tomorrow. I’m also sure there will be a lot more fighting and less relaxing in the days to come, yes?

“True,” Shaevra sighed. She leaned her head on Zevran’s thigh and he slowly stroked her  soft brunette hair. “So what would we eat on the ideal romantic Antivan picnic?”

Zevran chuckled. “Now don’t take me for an ingrate… but Fereldens know nothing of the subtleness of spices, or how to pair food with the right wine, or the delicacy of a light, sweet dessert. Here it is all heavy meats, and mead, and gravy… oh, don’t get me started on the gravy.” 

“We do love to drown a good roast,” Shaevra laughed.

“Yes… or even a bad roast. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sidetrack. You asked what we would eat at a romantic Antivan picnic? Well, first, I would take you out of the city, to the cliffs that overlook Rialto Bay. Once there, we would likely start off with tapas like _tortilla de patata, croquetas, or patatas bravas_. Then, seafood would definitely be on the menu. _Pulpo gallego, boquerones en vinagre, gambas al ajillo_ , and _mejillones rellenos_ just to name a few.”

“Mmm… I have no idea what you just said, but it sounds decadent.”

“Ah, amada belleza, it is. We would also have many fine fruits, olives, and cheeses to pair with it, which I would feed you by hand.”

“Don’t mention the cheese part to Alistair, or he’d insist on being there,” Shaevra giggled.

“Well, he is not invited… not this time.” Zevran gave a wry grin, then continued, “To drink, we’d have a refreshing sangria, or crisp, chilled Antivan white wine. For dessert, something subtle and light, perhaps sweetened with honey.”

“Honey?”

“Yes, querida. That sweet elixir that bees produce. I adore it.” He sighed wistfully. “Come to think, I haven’t had any in years. If I don’t get killed by the Crows, or eaten by the archdemon, I will want to live somewhere where I can get fresh honey.”

The two of them chatted lightly for a while longer, then Zevran drifted off. Shaevra carefully sat up, so as not to disturb him.

 _Hmm,_ she thought. _Honey. Well, it is spring… there must be a beehive somewhere in this forest._ _If I could find some, wouldn’t that be a nice surprise?!_ She looked in her pack and found an empty glass vial. Opening the cork, she sniffed. _Ah, this had a healing potion in it, so it is safe. I’ll just find_ _a stream to rinse it out._

She left the picnic spot, with Zevran still napping. To make sure she wouldn’t get lost, she made a small mark in the trees she passed with her dagger. Luckily, she didn’t have to go to far. She found a clear brook right next to a tree that had a hive. It was up pretty high, but she figured she could reach it. After all, she’d been climbing trees (well, _one_ tree, at least) since she was small. She rinsed out the vial, then holding it carefully in her teeth, she began climbing the trunk up to the hive.

However, Shaevra forgot one little thing. Bees don’t like to have their home invaded. About halfway up, they began buzzing angrily around her. Realizing she had made a mistake, she quickly slid down the trunk and lay down on the ground. Several bees flew around her, but she knew that running would just attract their attention. Keeping still, she waited.

Unfortunately, a bee somehow managed to sting her on her inner thigh. She winced at the burning pain but continued to wait. When the buzzing around her had stopped, she slowly got up. The sting in her thigh was really painful, but she managed to limp back to the area where Zevran was.

Zevran was awake when Shaevra returned. He cocked his eyebrows when he noticed his love walking a bit funny.

“Something happen out there?”

“Um…” she blushed. “I wanted to surprise you by finding some honey… but the bees didn’t appreciate my invasion. I got stung.”

“Ah, mi amor… You didn’t have to do that. Where did it sting you?”

“Inner thigh.”

“And you only got stung once? You are very lucky indeed.” Zevran helped her sit down, then began unlacing her leggings.

“What are you doing?” Shaevra giggled.

“We must remove the sting, no?”

“Oh. Yes. I suppose so.”

He got her to lay comfortably on the blanket, the spread her legs. “Ah-ha! There is the sting,” Zev said. “Now, for this next bit, you will need to be as still as possible.” He took out his daggers. “You trust me, yes?”

Shaevra nodded. “I do.”

“Okay.” Zevran held his daggers, then carefully placed the tips of each blade by the stinger. He pressed gently, and the sting came out partway. Putting his daggers aside, he then pulled out the sting with his fingertips. Letting out a breath, he smiled. “Done. Now let me make a quick poultice for this.” He saw some elfroot growing nearby and plucked off a leaf. Putting it in his mouth he chewed, then spat out the masticated herb. He smeared it on her wound, then got his waterskin to rinse the bitter herb taste from his mouth. “All better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Shaevra smiled, but then noticed Zevran was looking at her in an odd fashion. “Why are you staring at me so?”

Zev licked his lips and gave her a huge grin. “Because it just occurred to me, gatita, I have you right where I want you… completely by accident.” He lay down on top of her and began kissing her ardently. In between them, he murmured, “It was very sweet of you to try and get me honey from the bees… but right now, yours is the only honey I need to taste.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people I know have the "Antivan language" as Italian... I have personally always thought of it as Spanish. 😊 Perhaps it is just my preference. 
> 
> All the foods Zevran lists are actual Spanish tapas.


	10. Surprise Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Cullbastian short I wrote for my fellow writing friend cullenlovesmen (handersmyheart). 😋

7th of Drakonis, 9:37 Dragon – City of Kirkwall

Cullen, Knight-Captain of the Kirkwall Templars stared down with disgust at the tainted remains of Meredith, his former Knight-Commander.

_How could it have come to this? Why did she let it go so far?_

He had supported her in the beginning, when he’d first been assigned to the Kirkwall Chantry. After his torture by demons and Uldred back in Ferelden, he too, thought mages were exceptionally dangerous and needed the firm hand that his Knight-Commander was providing. But as the years progressed, he saw that Meredith was slowly losing her grasp on reality.

What happened tonight with Orsino, the mages, the Templars… if Hawke hadn’t been there to stop Meredith… _There is no telling how much more damage she would have caused!_

He sighed. _So now what do I do with my life? Can I remain a Templar after seeing all this?_ A sudden, melodic voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Are you all right there, Ser Cullen?”

He had heard that voice a lot over the past few years, always with Hawke and his other companions. The unmistakable Starkhaven lilt. Cullen felt his cheeks warming.

He turned to face him, “Sebastian… Ah, I mean Prince Vael… Uh… What I mean to say is…”

“I wanted to thank you personally – for helping Hawke. Standing up to your Commander… that took real bravery.”

Cullen stared into the prince’s blue eyes. _As blue as the waters of the Waking Sea._ He tore his gaze away and looked at the ground. “It was the right thing to do,” he quietly replied. “That red lyrium had poisoned her, corrupted her. But even that can’t justify what she did tonight.”

“Aye,” Sebastian nodded. “So now what will you do? Will you stay with the Templars?”

“I… I don’t know. I have seen corruption in mages… what it can do to them. But to see corruption in the ranks of the Templar Order… I-I’m not sure if I _can_ stay.” Cullen sighed. “But I don’t know anything else. Being a Templar was _everything_ to me.”

Sebastian placed a hand on Cullen’s arm. He shivered at the touch and hoped the prince hadn’t noticed. Sebastian smiled and said, “I will be heading back to Starkhaven in a fortnight. Perhaps… you would like to join me?”

Cullen’s head snapped up. “J-join you? You mean leave Kirkwall and go to Starkhaven with you? Why?” He blushed again. “Not that I mean to sound ungrateful or anything…”

Sebastian smiled patiently. “I am going home to take back my title and become Prince… officially, and I thought that perhaps you could be one of my royal guards? That is, if you really don’t intend to stay with the Templars, of course.”

“I-I don’t know,” Cullen stammered. “I am humbled by your generous offer… but…”

“Say no more. Just… promise you will think about it. I’ll be at Hawke’s estate until I leave, so if I see you there in two weeks, then I will know.”

21st of Bloomingtide, 9:37 Dragon – City of Starkhaven

It had taken time for Cullen to get settled in once they had arrived at Sebastian’s castle. But now that he’d been here for two months, he was happy he’d made the choice to come.

Sebastian has presented him with a surprisingly large suite of rooms in the palace, which he thought was a bit odd. He was only a guard for the prince. All of the other soldiers were in the barracks, so why was he being treated differently? Cullen had questioned Sebastian on this.

“I appreciate these rooms… really, I do, Prince Vael. But why am I living in the castle proper instead of with the other soldiers in the barracks?”

Sebastian chuckled. “Do you truly wish to just be another rank-and-file soldier for me? You are my royal guard. I need to keep you close to me. Also, I would much prefer it for you to call me by my given name. ‘Prince Vael’ is just so… formal. Especially between friends.”

“Are we… friends?” Cullen asked nervously.

Sebastian’s eyes sparkled. “I’d truly like to think so.”

Over the next few weeks, things got really busy for Cullen. The city was preparing for the official coronation of Sebastian. Cullen, as royal guard and head of security, had to make sure everything was safe. He did full background checks and personally trained all of the soldiers under him, so he knew he could trust them to protect Prince Va- …Sebastian.

He was in the kitchens enough that the head cook was getting rather annoyed.

“D’ya really think I’d let anyone in here that I dinna know?” she bellowed at Cullen one day. “I’ve known Sebastian longer than ye’ave! Since he was in swaddling! I can protect him as well as ye! Now shoo! Outta me kitchens!”

Finally confident enough that everything was ready, Cullen let the advisors to the prince know. They announced the date of the coronation, which would be followed by a royal ball. There would be dancing, drinking, and then a massive feast. Many noble families of Starkhaven and the Marches were hoping to get their daughter noticed by the Prince in hopes of pursuing an engagement… but with each new announcement, Cullen noticed it made Sebastian sullen and moody.

“Is there anything I can do to help, your highness?” Cullen asked one day, but Sebastian just shook his head and waved Cullen off.

Finally, the big day arrived. The coronation went off without any problems, which made Cullen happy. Then there was the royal ball. Cullen stood there, in his crisp Starkhaven uniform, tall and proud. He kept his face neutral as he scanned the massive crowd of people, but his eyes always seemed to land on Sebastian, no matter how many others he looked at.

The prince was currently dancing with some red-haired woman, and while she had a smile that could light the room, Sebastian’s face was not happy. Cullen also felt this odd ache in his chest as he watched the prince dance with woman after woman… and he couldn’t seem to figure out why.

With a resigned sigh, he clamped down on his emotions. _I have a job to do. A very important job. Once this ball is over, then perhaps I can try to figure out what is bothering me._

Only the most important noble families of the Free Marches attended the banquet after the ball, but the massive dining room still held well over a hundred people. Cullen and several of his handpicked men were guarding all exits from the room. He, himself was at the door closest to Sebastian.

Oh, the discipline it took to not salivate at all the food being served. Cullen saw many of the dishes he had come to enjoy while living in the Free Marches, along with some Ferelden favorites too. So instead of focusing on the food, he stared at Sebastian. But with every smile the prince gave as he chatted with the nobles around him, Cullen felt that strange ache in his chest. Then the prince turned at smiled at him, his extraordinary blue eyes sparkling and Cullen felt his face get hot. _Why do I feel so_ _…_ _strange?_ _P_ _erhaps I need to see a physician soon._

The dinner continued on and on. Finally, the desserts were being brought out. Puddings, fruit tarts, pastries, cakes… everything looked so divine. Cullen’s eyes were scanning the room again until something caught his attention and he quickly looked back at Sebastian.

The prince was turned away and talking with the person on his right, but it was the person on his left that made Cullen go on full alert. He could swear that he saw her pour something into the prince’s wine glass.

Just as he thought he should go up and investigate, Sebastian took the wine glass and quickly downed the whole thing. Almost immediately he began to cough, then shake. Foam started coming out of his lips.

The woman stood up. “If any of you wish to save your precious Prince Sebastian, I will hand over the antidote for no less than one hundred thousand crowns! Bring the money to me immediately or I will smash the vial on the ground and he will die!”

Cullen was quickly glad of two things. First, he was directly behind the woman, so she not see him approach, nor did she hear him for his Starkhaven uniform was nowhere near as bulky as his former Templar armor. He quickly grabbed the woman and locked his arms around her so that she couldn’t move. She screeched and tried to toss the antidote to the ground, but two of Cullen’s other men intercepted. One grabbed the vial and the other, with Cullen’s assistance, clapped the woman in iron manacles. As they forcibly removed the woman from the room, Cullen did the only thing he could think of. He poured the antidote into his own mouth, leaned over Sebastian, placed his lips directly on the prince’s, and forced the antidote into his mouth… keeping his lips steady until he was sure the prince had swallowed. Strangely, in the midst of the crisis being averted, Cullen couldn’t help but marvel at how soft Sebastian’s lips were.

Slowly, as Cullen pulled away, he could see Sebastian take in a shaky breath; his color returning to normal. Vivid blue eyes locked with amber and the air held a pregnant pause. Cullen swallowed nervously. Had he gone too far?

As Cullen slowly stood back up, the prince abruptly announced, “Party is over. Everyone will leave immediately.”

Cullen turned and began walking away when he heard Sebastian softly, but firmly say, “Not you, Cullen. You will report to my office in ten minutes. Understood?”

Red-faced and ashamed, Cullen couldn’t face the prince. Nonetheless, he replied, “Yes, sir.”

Cullen stood outside the prince’s office. He was about to knock, when he heard from inside, “Come in, Cullen.”

Cullen did and then shut the door behind him. There were no lights on, just a fire burning in the massive fireplace. Sebastian was staring at the flames. “Y-you wanted to see me, sir?” Cullen asked as he stood on the other side of the fireplace.

“First off,” Sebastian said, still not turning to look at Cullen, “I wanted to thank you. Your quick actions undoubtedly saved my life tonight. However, I must ask. Why did you deliver the antidote in such a method?”

Cullen tried to keep his voice steady. “You were… choking sir. It was all I could think of to make sure that you actually received the antidote.”

“I see.” There was a long silence, then Sebastian asked. “Was it my imagination then… or did I feel your lips caress mine after you had already delivered the cure?”

Cullen swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I… I’m not sure I- ”

Sebastian cut him off abruptly. “Do not think to play games with me, Cullen. I want to know… did you kiss me?”

Caught. Trapped. No way out. Cullen just barely managed to whisper, “Yes.”

More silence. Cullen figured at the best, he was fired… at the worst, executed. He waited for what seemed an eternity. But what happened next… he had been totally unprepared for.

“Did you enjoy it?” Sebastian asked.

Surprised, Cullen blinked. Would he damn himself further if he told the truth? He decided to take that leap of faith. “Yes,” he replied. “You… really are the most remarkable man I have ever known… Sebastian.”

Sebastian turned and rapidly closed the distance between him and Cullen. To his utmost surprise, Sebastian brought his lips to Cullen’s and kissed him softly. When he pulled away, Cullen could see Sebastian’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “Do you know how long I’ve held back? How I longed to make my feelings known to you, but was afraid you wouldn’t reciprocate?”

“I… I think I’ve been feeling the same myself for a long time but was unsure how to act upon these new feelings.” Cullen gave a shy smile. “It will be good to have no more misunderstandings between us, yes?”

“I agree.” Sebastian gave Cullen another quick kiss and smiled wide. “I believe I also owe you a boon… for saving my life tonight. Whatever you want, please ask.”

Cullen pulled Sebastian closer to him. “I believe I would love to kiss you again, Sebastian.”

“Granted,” Sebastian murmured. “If you don’t mind that I will undoubtedly be kissing you back.”

“I hoped that you would say that.” With that, Cullen brought his lips back to Sebastian’s.


	11. Love Potion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it is past the deadline... but I'll finish these shorts! Only 3 more to go anyways!
> 
> I also deliberately left out the Warden's last name in this ficlet... Lyria can be whoever you wish in this tale!

_Ugh,_ _W_ _hat was in that void-awful stew that Oghren made?_ Alistair put his hand to his mouth to stifle a belch. _Andraste’s Tits! T_ _hat is the_ _ **last**_ _time we ever let him cook!_ He sat down on a tree stump and held his stomach. _I thought the Grey Warden appetite could handle just about anything!_ _Bleagh..._ _was I_ _wrong about that!_ _But then again,_ he thought sourly, _I shouldn’t have had seconds…_

Alistair looked all around. The camp was quiet. Oghren was passed out drunk. He had no idea where Zevran was. Sten was on watch and had asked to not be disturbed. Leliana and Lyria were bathing at the nearby hot springs so he _couldn’t_ disturb them… and Wynne had already retired for the night, so there was no getting any help from her.

That left… Morrigan.

 _No… no, no,_ _NO_ _! I do_ _ **not**_ _want to be beholden to her_! Then his stomach gurgled rather unpleasantly and he belched again. _Maker damn it! If I don’t get_ _ **something**_ _to help, I’ll be spending the entire_ _ **night**_ _in the woods…_ _ **far**_ _from the camp!_

Alistair carefully walked – trying to make it look like a casual stroll – to Morrigan’s little camp. He peered around the trees. Her own little campfire was burning, herbs had been laid out to dry by the fire. The flaps were tied open and the tent was empty. Her pack lay nearby.

 _Could I be so lucky?_ Alistair thought with hope. He looked all around her camp again. Clearly, Morrigan was away somewhere. Still being cautious, he moved around the perimeter of her camp until he was next to her tent.

Quickly, he knelt down, opened her pack, and found a vial of bright red liquid. _Healing potion! This is_ _ **exactly**_ _what I need!_ Clutching the precious vial in his hand, he snaked his way back through the trees. Stopping at the edge of the main camp, Alistair pulled out the cork on the vial and quaffed the contents. Immediately he felt a soothing warmth spreading through his body.

“Ah, that is _much_ better,” he sighed in contentment.

Just then, a voice behind him coldly asked, “Did you take something from _my_ pack, Alistair?”

Alistair jumped and spun around to find Morrigan glaring at him with her yellow, cat-like eyes and her arms crossed over her chest. She then grabbed the empty vial from his hand. “Shit…” he muttered.

“You _dare_ steal from _me_?”

“Look, ah… Morrigan. It’s not what you think…” Alistair stammered. “I was sick… You know, from Oghren’s cooking…”

“And so you thought it prudent to take something from my pack without asking?” Her eyes narrowed and she scowled. “You know nothing of magic. Do you even know what potion you just took?”

“Healing potion. Why?”

Eyebrows raised, Morrigan stared at Alistair. “So because ’twas a red potion, you assumed it would be healing?” She then gave a cruel smile. “And if I told you it wasn’t… then what?”

Alistair paled. “Y-you’re joking, right?” When Morrigan just stared at him, he grabbed the nearest tree trunk for support. “I… didn’t take a poison, did I?”

“If you had, you’d likely be dead already.” Morrigan snipped. “No, what you took… was a love potion.”

“Wh-what will it do?”

“’Twill make you fall in love with the next thing you see,” Morrigan replied.

Panicked, Alistair cried out, “But I am looking at you!”

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “You think I wouldn’t take precautions when crafting such a potion? Otherwise, anyone I gave it to would fall in love with me! No, it won’t affect _me…_ but the very next thing you look at…”

“You’re saying,” Alistair gulped, “that I could fall in love with a tree? Or a rock?” He immediately shut his eyes tight.

“Or the very next person you see! Like Sten… or Shale!” She gave a short, derisive laugh. “Have fun getting back to camp!”

Alistair heard the leaves rustle, then all was silent around him. “Morrigan? Please, I’m sorry I took your potion without asking!” He tried feeling around him, but his hands only felt tree trunks. Still, he tried again. “Please give me an antidote! I don’t want to fall in love with a darkspaaaawn!”

When there was no answer, he sighed. _I suppose she has every right to be angry at me, but this is_ _really_ _cruel… even for her!_ He put his hands out in front of him. _If I can just somehow make it back to camp and to my tent, perhaps I can sleep it off? Surely it can’t be a_ _ **permanent**_ _potion!_

With that hope, Alistair took careful steps, keeping his arms out in front of him to feel his way through the woods. He walked for what felt like ages without hearing anything.

 _Shit! W_ _ith my eyes closed, I have no idea if I am even going in the right direction!_ _I don’t hear the crackling of the campfire… or Oghren’s snores! I probably should have just stayed where I was! Someone surely would have found me… eventually?_ Just then, he heard the sound of splashing and a female sigh. He stumbled blindly forward.

“Hello? Anyone there?” he called out.

He heard a startled scream, then, “Alistair! Have you no sense of privacy?!”

“Lyria? Is that you?”

“Yes,” came the slightly hesitant reply.

“Thank the Maker! Is Leliana with you?”

“No, she already went back to camp. I was just finishing up.” There was a moment of silence, then she asked, “Why are you stumbling around in the forest with your eyes closed?”

“I can explain later… Will you please help me get back to my tent?” Alistair asked.

“Um, sure. Just give me a moment.” He heard her get out of the water and then a few moments later, she took his hand. “Don’t let go, all right?”

“I won’t,” he promised. As they walked in the dark, Lyria leading, Alistair couldn’t help but notice a sweet fragrance. He inhaled and gave a smile. “What smells so good?”

Lyria gave a chuckle. “Probably me. I did just finish bathing, after all.”

“You smell… sweet.”

“I used the last of my honeysuckle soap tonight. I hope there will be more in the next town we visit.”

“I, ah… think Redcliffe has an apothecary that makes soap.” Alistair couldn’t help but inhale again. _Maker, she really does smell good!_

Lyria then stopped. Alistair heard the sound of the camp. “Well, here we are,” Lyria said softly. “Your tent is right in front of you.”

“Oh, thank you, Lyria. If I hadn’t found you… I don’t know what might have happened.” Alistair got down on his hands and knees and crawled into his tent. The flap closed behind him and he sat down. _Still can’t open my eyes even here! Don’t want to fall in love with my tent!_ He sighed. _What I would give to just get blotto drunk right now… like Oghren._ He then heard his tent flaps open again and someone crawled inside. “Who’s there?”

“It’s just me, Alistair.”

“Lyria? Why are you in here?”

“You promised to tell me what was going on. Why you were running about with your eyes closed.”

So Alistair proceeded to tell her all that had happened. His stomachache from Oghren’s stew and taking the potion from Morrigan’s bag. “…and then she told me it wasn’t a healing potion, but a _love_ potion, and that I’d fall in love with the next thing I looked at!”

Lyria reached out and took his hand. “Ali, listen to me very carefully. There are no such things as ‘love potions’. I believe Morrigan tricked you because she was angry.”

“B-but how do you know for certain?” Alistair’s voice trembled. “She’s _evil_! She really could have learned something like that from that crazy mother of hers!”

Lyria took a deep breath. “I’ve read enough and know enough about history to say that if _anyone_ had ever discovered or used such a potion, they would have thrown the world into chaos.”

“How do you mean?”

“Think about it. If such a potion existed, all the creator would need to do is give it to the ruler of the country, Then that King, Queen, Empress… or whoever is in charge, would do the bidding of that person without question! Something like that would surely get noticed by those that keep track of history… don’t you think?”

“I… suppose so,” he mused.

“I think it is safe to open your eyes, Ali.”

“But… what if something happens… to you?”

“I don’t think anything will happen… but if it did, would it be so bad?” Lyria asked. “I mean… you _do_ like me, don’t you?”

“I… do. I’ve liked you from the day we first met.” Alistair sighed again. “I just wasn’t sure if… if it was mutual.”

“Why would you say that? Of course, I like you, Alistair!”

“Well… you have spent a lot of time with Zevran… since we met him.” Alistair bit his lower lip. “I thought that perhaps… you and he… were a couple.”

“Oh? Oh, no…” Lyria giggled lightly. “No, Ali. Zevran and I are just friends. I just enjoy his company. He makes me laugh.”

“What about me? Do you enjoy my company too?”

Lyria smiled and looked down at her hand, still holding his. “I do, Ali. You are very sweet, kind, considerate. You are also selfless and brave. I can think of no one finer to have as my fellow Warden.”

“How… how would you feel if I wanted to kiss you?”

Lyria looked up and saw that Alistair’s eyes were now open. There was no lust-crazed look, nothing manic in his expression. There was only honest sincerity… and love. Not potion-induced, but genuine love. “I think I would like that very much,” she whispered.

Morrigan sat on a low tree branch. She had heard the conversation between Lyria and Alistair. “Lucky for her that he is so gullible,” she muttered with a smirk.

“Ah, what is this?” Zevran emerged from the woods with a hare he had caught. “Our wily witch playing match-maker with the two Wardens? Have you gone soft on us, Morrigan?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, elf. Of course not!” Morrigan huffed. “I just did a friend a small favor… that’s all!”

“Well, don’t you worry, lovely Morrigan,” Zev grinned. “I’ll keep your little secret. I know you have your reputation as the ‘evil, mean witch’ to uphold, yes?”

Morrigan rolled her eyes. Then she turned into an owl and flew off into the night leaving Zevran chuckling as he made his way to the campfire.


	12. Watching Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my good friend, Aurlana... who is famous for her 100 word Cullistair drabbles!
> 
> Hope you enjoy! 🥰

Cullen leaned his head on Alistair’s shoulder as they watched the sunset from atop the highest skyscraper in Denerim. Alistair turned slightly and kissed his husband’s forehead gently.

“From up here, you can almost see eternity,” Alistair mused.

“Waxing poetic in your old age, love?” Cullen smiled as he stroked Alistair’s silver hair.

“Hmph, I am only a year older than you,” Alistair grumbled, yet his face still held a smile. “Hardly an old fart.”

“Forty-five years together with you and your humor,” Cullen grinned and brushed his lips against Alistair’s. “What more could I ask for?”

“Forever, my love.”

**(100)**


	13. Love Marks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Nikki on Twitch (https://www.twitch.tv/nerdinikki) for letting me borrow her character, Dyce Cadash, and her "Bulldash" romance for this little short! 😊

Bull sat down with the rest of the Chargers, a huge tankard of ale in his thick hand. He gave a sigh and was about to drink when Krem interrupted.

“Hey, ah… chief?”

“Yes, Krem? What is it?”

“What’s with the weird marks on your neck there? I don’t recall seeing those yesterday.”

Bull coughed into his other fist gently, then replied. “Marks?”

“Yeah. They are a darker grey than the rest of your skin.”

“Hmm… must have smudged my vitaar this morning.” Bull took a large swallow of his ale. “Nothing to worry over.”

Krem eyed Bull suspiciously, but then shrugged and said, “Whatever you say, chief.”

A few days later, Vivienne sauntered into the main hall of Skyhold. Bull was just in front of her, speaking to Cullen.

“Bull, my dearest,” she twittered. “Whatever are those blemishes on your back?”

Bull turned to face her. “What are you talking about?”

Cullen, who now could see Bull’s back, commented, “She’s right. You do have these strange… bruises all over your lower back. Maybe you should get some rest? Take the day off?”

“Ooh, yes,” Vivienne sighed. “Next time you find yourself in Orlais, you should let me book you a spa appointment! They have _marvelous_ skin treatments!”

Bull rolled his eyes and grumbled, “I’m fine, Cullen, Viv. I don’t need the day off… and I _certainly_ don’t need a spa treatment!” He grabbed his sword and stalked out of the main hall.

“Hmph!” Vivienne snorted. “Try to be nice to some people and they just bite your head off!”

Two weeks later, while they were in the Fallow Mire, Sera made some crude remark about the marks going from his stomach to his… Bull decided to get a slight revenge on her by digging his hands into some stagnant water and pulling out a bunch of leeches. Sera ran off laughing, because while he’d meant to shock her, Bull ended up paying the price when he had to pull the slimy things off his hands – each one leaving their own bloody mark.

That night, Varric invited Bull and the Inquisitor, Dyce Cadash, to a game of Wicked Grace. Bull was finally relaxing and having some fun, while Dyce teased him from across the table with mildly sexy jokes.

They were taking a small respite between hands. Cullen had left to get more refreshments. They were all swapping silly stories when suddenly, Cole spoke up.

 **“** Blood rushes, rises on the skin. Love shown in different places. You act like you're in charge, The Iron Bull, but it's really her.She is tied, teased, tantalized, but it's tempered to what she wants. She submits, you serve, and she leaves them as her thank you out in the open.”

Bull rolled his eyes. “Et tu, kid?” He coughed lightly into his fist. “And how does she feel about you saying this in front of _everybody?_ ” His eyes twinkled as he locked gazes with Dyce.

She laughed and replied, “Bull and I are consenting adults. There’s nothing wrong with what we choose to do in bed. As for the love marks? Well, that’s just me marking my territory…”

 **“** Not just in bed,” Cole piped up again. “Sometimes it’s up against the wall. Once it was on the war table.”

Sera giggled madly. _“_ So you plumbed _her_ Deep Roads, eh?”

Josephine put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my.”

“ _Really_ , Sera!” Dorian tried to look shocked, but his grin gave him away.

Blackwall just looked bemused. “Cullen’s reaction will be priceless when he hears about that,” he murmured.

Varric slapped Bull on his upper arm. “Listen, do whatever works for you. You don’t have to act restrained in front of _us_.”

Cole’s soft voice spoke. “Sometimes she almost says it. Katoh. She tastes it in her mouth, sweet release a breath away, but she does not. For her, and for you because it makes it mean more. A fuller feeling, a brighter burst.”

Bull chuckled. “Do you mind, kid? If you take away all the mystery, it's not quite as hot.”

Dyce’s short leg just barely managed to kick Bull’s knee. “Oh, no. It is.”

Grinning at her, he waved his hand at Cole. “Right! My mistake. Carry on, kid.”

 **“** What's an Orlesian Tickler?” he asked.

Bull winked at Dyce. “I'll tell you when you're older.”

“No, you won’t.” Cole almost looked a bit sad, but his lips twitched into a half-smile.

Bull laughed again. “You’re right, kid. I won’t.”

Just then Cullen walked back in carrying a tray of Ferelden Sharp, some smoked sausages, and two tankards of ale. As he set the tray on the table, he quipped, “Did I miss anything exciting?”

Everyone at the table just held knowing grins.

Later, as they stood on her balcony, gazing at the stars, Dyce turned to Bull. “You don’t mind that I left so many marks on your skin, do you? I know the others teased you about them.”

“No, Kadan, I don’t mind. I think what still surprises me is how strong you are. It isn’t easy to mark _my_ skin. You know I don’t bruise easy, so I gotta say I’m impressed.”

“So I can leave more?” Dyce teased.

Bull put his arm around his love. “As many as you want, Kadan.”


	14. NSFW - First Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little short can be read as an addition to Chapter 11 of my main LongFic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/14631294). It takes place when Kylara, Alistair and the rest have returned to their camp... right after Zevran was recruited. I duplicated part of the original chapter so you would know where it fits.
> 
> Or if you prefer... you can just enjoy it as a short, stand-alone story. 😄

Quietly, Kylara took a deep breath and then asked, “Would you… like to join me… in my tent?”

Alistair pulled back from her slightly and she saw him blushing.

“Y-your tent? Ah…” He gulped nervously, and then gently said, “I know most guys would probably leap at the chance t-to be with you. But I don’t know if I am ready for that… It’s a big step.” He sighed deeply. “Yeah, I guess this must make me sound like a complete idiot! To turn down an incredible woman like you? I’d have to be!”

“I-I am… sorry,” she mumbled.

He put his arm back around her and kissed her forehead. “I guess… I was just raised to not take that sort of thing lightly. I do love being with you, Kylara. You are an amazing woman. I… I hope my hesitation hasn’t put you off.”

“No,” she said softly. “I will respect your wishes. I didn’t mean to… pressure you.”

“Pressure me? Maker no! I truly would love to… I just think it might be a little too soon.” He sighed again. “Well, now that I have handled that with my usual deft brilliance… I think I might need a cold bath.”

Kylara blushed, realizing what he was referring to.

“So, I guess I will bid you goodnight, then?” He gave her a big smile.

“Um… yes. I think so,” she replied, still blushing.

He gave me a tender kiss. “Goodnight, Kylara. Sweet dreams.”

After Kylara had disappeared into her tent and the flaps shut behind her, Alistair continued to sit by the campfire. He felt light-headed and his thoughts were reeling.

_Alistair Theirin, you are an idiot!_ _Just because she invited you to her tent doesn’t necessarily mean she wanted to do anything… more…_ _Did she?_

Did he?

_Maker’s Breath, YES!_

The truth was, he had been enamored of Kylara since he first met her at Ostagar, but with all that was about to happen with the upcoming battle, it seemed stupid to say anything. Besides, what woman in her right mind would respond to some cheesy pick-up line in the middle of a battlefield!

Back when the whole group of them, twenty-eight strong, had been journeying to Ostagar – to meet up with Duncan and his new recruits – most of them had joked around with him good-naturedly about his _inexperience_ with the opposite sex, and Alistair took it in stride. They knew he’d spent his formative years in a monastery.

But once the senior Grey Wardens caught the love-sick look on Alistair’s face after Kylara had been introduced to everyone – that’s when the teasing really began. When Duncan had pulled her (along with the other recruits, Daveth and Jory) off to the side to discuss their upcoming task in the Korcari Wilds, Alistair was approached by Warden Rozwyn. He slipped something into Alistair’s grip and murmured, “She’s a bit outta yer league there, laddie. You jus’ might haf’ to take matters into yer own hands.”

Alistair turned bright red when he realized what Rozwyn was referring to… and that he’d been handed a small vial of oil. Alistair stuffed it in his pack as quickly as possible… and promptly forgot about it.

He’d forgotten because of Ostagar and his life on the run ever since that fateful night.

He’d forgotten… until now.

Growing up in the monastery, the Chantry Brothers and Sisters had lectured about the evils of touching oneself in that manner. Even thinking about it was sinful.

 _Did he even dare have the courage to think about it now_?

Revered Mother Prudence was so strict and harsh in her punishments if you were caught – or even accused of doing _anything_ along those lines… Well, let’s just say he had been so afraid of ‘Prune-Face’ Prudence he had never even once tried it!

 _With_ _ **her**_ _around, it was n_ _o wonder so many Templars chose vows of chastity_!

The few times he had woken up during his monastery days and found himself hard, or anytime his flesh felt rebellious, all he had to do was think about ‘Prune-Face’… and he’d immediately go soft. Yep, she was _that_ scary.

He tried thinking of her now.

Nothing.

He tried again… but her harsh and evil face was immediately replaced by Kylara’s lovely visage. Her deep red hair… her sparkling blue eyes… and Maker, her lips! Soft as silk and as fresh-tasting as ripe summer berries!

He closed his eyes and replayed their latest kisses in his mind. The soft way she moaned and sighed each time their lips met… it was pure bliss.

A wave of heat washed over him and he realized he was sweating. _Is it the campfire, or am I feverish?_ His breeches felt tighter than normal. He could feel his cock throbbing, aching.

He furtively looked all around to make sure he was completely alone.

He swallowed a lump in his throat as his hand slowly moved from his knee… to his thigh… to his crotch.

The very next moment he was rooting around in his pack.

_Let it still be there! Oh please, let it still be in there!_

He almost crowed with delight when his hand closed on the tiny glass vial.

Looking around the camp, all was calm. Everyone was asleep… except for one.

“Winston,” Alistair whispered to Kylara’s mabari. “You stay here and keep watch, okay? I’ll… be right back.”

Winston made a soft whine but did not move from his spot by Kylara’s tent. Alistair quickly headed off into the darkness.

A few minutes later he found himself by the springs near their camp. Seeing Kylara’s magic still surrounding the glade – the rose vines, the fireflies – only made his shaft ache even more with need.

Reaching the far side of the springs, he quickly unlaced his breeches. He pulled them and his smalls down in one fluid motion. He gave a slight hiss as his cock sprang free from its confinement, then stared at it for a moment as though he were seeing it for the very first time.

He’d never really had anyone to compare himself with until he’d been with the Wardens. The monastery had had small tubs in each private room, really reinforcing the commandments of _don’t look, don’t touch, don’t even think about it!_ When he’d gone to his first bathing session with the Wardens, he had surreptitiously glanced at some of the other men… because, you know… curiosity!

What he’d seen at first made him very self-conscious. His cock was easily the largest of all the men there. His first thought was _am I normal?_ _Maker, I hope so!_

As they traveled together and as the months progressed he very quickly learned to listen in when the men would start telling their bawdy tales of their times with women. One man had even spoken of knowing another man who went by the moniker of ‘The Thirty’ – because his cock was supposedly thirty centimeters long!

Alistair knew his measurements and was pretty sure that having a cock that big would be almost impossible. But the story still brought some relief to him – knowing that they truly did come in all shapes and sizes.

Bringing his mind to the present, he took his cock into his fist and gave a gentle squeeze.

The sensations that flooded his mind just then almost caused him to stumble. He quickly sank to his knees. With shaking hands he uncorked the tiny vial of oil.

_How much? Rozwyn never said._

He poured what he hoped was the right amount and then recorked the vial. After rubbing his hands together, he then took his cock into his right hand, while his left gently cupped his sac. He began to move his hands.

“Oh! _Oohh!_ ” he murmured, trying to keep his voice as quiet as he could manage. _I never realized it would feel this good!_ His breaths quickened and he began moving his hand faster.

All too soon, he found himself gasping and groaning as copious amounts of his seed hit the ground.

Then he waited.

When no lightning smote him down, he let out a shaky breath. Then he chuckled.

_Ha! Take that, Ol’ Prune-Face! Guess the Maker_ _doesn’t care about th_ _at sin_ _as_ _much as_ _you made him out to!_

He glanced down at his spent member, still glistening with oil, and sighed. _I wish_ _it would have_ _lasted longer…_ _it felt so good!_ Then he stared at his hand. It was rough and calloused from years of training with a sword. He had no doubt that without the aid of the oil, it probably wouldn’t have felt so nice. His thoughts then strayed to Kylara’s soft, small hand. Would she ever entertain the idea of doing _this_ for him? Would she want to do _more_?

He recalled one tale that a fellow Warden, Eirick, had once shared about a woman who had pleasured him with her mouth. At first, Alistair hadn’t believed him. Why would a woman want to do _that_?

But now, that very thought crept back into his mind and he felt his cock rapidly swelling to full arousal again.

Closing his eyes, he tentatively ran his fingers lightly over his cock, trying to imagine they were Kylara’s, instead of his own big, clumsy ones. Though part of him knew it was wrong to put her into his fantasy without her knowledge, he couldn’t help himself.

“Mmm… Oh, Kylara. Please… touch me,” he whispered to no one and to himself.

He kept his touch light, teasing – trying to keep it slow so he would last longer this time. Alternating the feathery touches with an occasional squeeze to his cock, Alistair sighed in bliss. He then grasped his shaft, sliding the smooth skin down to expose the crown. This time, he took notice of the clear fluid seeping out. He gently ran his thumb over the slick, spreading it around his cock head.

“ _M-Maker!_ ” He moaned and closed his eyes. All at once an image of Kylara filled Alistair’s mind… her soft, pink lips closing around his cock like the woman in Eirick’s tale… and all thoughts of taking it slowly vanished. He grasped and pulled on his shaft with a need so urgent, it wasn’t long until he was once again spurting on the ground.

Once spent, he huffed for breath. He stared at the two sticky, pearly splashes of his ejaculate on the ground. _I should_ _cover this with some dirt,_ he thought _. Though I know it is unlikely that it will be discovered… better safe than sorry._

Of course, once it was done, he felt a twinge of regret. _I shouldn’t have thought about Kylara in such a manner. She is_ _far_ _too amazing to be reduced to a mere fantasy._ A soft smile came to Alistair’s face. _But ooh, if she would agree to it… I-_ Alistair felt a twinge in his cock and stared in amazement as it hardened once more. _Again?_

He then remembered one other thing that his fellow Wardens had teased him about. It had held no meaning for him until now though… _Warden stamina._

A few hours later, the oil finally gone, Alistair stumbled somewhat drunkenly back to his tent. While he couldn’t deny the pleasure had been exquisite, now that it was over, the shame and guilt of using the woman he cared for in such a manner weighed heavily in his heart. _Perhaps_ _ **that**_ _is why the Chantry calls_ _i_ _t a sin…_ he thought sadly. _I feel as if I really need to make it right with her. Once we get to Redcliffe, I will speak with her about my feelings - my **true** feelings. I… I __care for_ _her far_ _too much to leave it like this._ Determined that he was doing the right thing, he finally collapsed onto his blankets and immediately fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay... but they are all FINISHED!
> 
> I hope you enjoy them all!!


End file.
